


A Night to Remember

by Ailurophelia



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailurophelia/pseuds/Ailurophelia
Summary: Based on the "Eleven Things You Probably Didn't Know About the Corsair" by Neil Gaiman, the Doctor and Corsair meet for drinks after a hard-won battle against the Spacemaster General. The two find themselves at a bar where a fast-acting drink and a foolish wager get them into more trouble than they can handle.





	

The Corsair could not remember the last time he had a Genin Mementonic this good. In fact, he could not remember the last time he ever had one. It was not for lack of trying, of course. One of the properties of the Mementonic was its ability to produce a vibrant tingling sensation all along one’s furthest extremities as well as wipe one’s short-term memory. You drink this Hangorian specialty and you forget ordering it, downing it, loving it, fulfilling your most desired pursuits for it, and eventually, regretting it.

These were the thoughts that floated through the Corsair’s head as he tapped his glass into that of his drinking companion.

“Cheers to those nathering blighters back at the base, hmm!” the Doctor said.

He removed the lid of his glass and downed the fluorescent blue-green concoction before it could congeal though contact with the air.

“May those soldiers have the good sense not to part a Time Lord from their TARDIS again.”

The Corsair pulled back the cap and tossed the liquid down his throat. The Mementonic gave his tongue a sensation of numbness and all the warmth of a summer day on Calufrax. Already, the burly man could feel a fizzing at the tips of his toes. It was as if someone had filled his worn leather boots with tonic water.

“And I can’t for the life of me understand how you convinced me to have a drink with you after the last time,” the Doctor said.

Despite his worries, there was a glint of mischief in the Doctor’s eye.

“Now really, Doctor. We’re going to have a great time!” the Corsair replied.

“Yes, well, as long as we stay in the bar and go back to our TARDISes at the end of the night, then there’s no chance of you getting me into trouble!”

“Ha! Still haven’t forgiven me for that one?”

“Certainly not! His Royal Emissary has never returned my calls and it took a week for the Warden to give me back my things.”

“I do remember you were overly fond of that flute.”

“It was a recorder, if you must bring it up. Though I suppose you’re right. I was a bit too attached to the thing.”

“Indeed you were. That, and the sonic screwdriver you were always tinkering with.”

“I’ll have you know I broke the habit. Haven’t touched it in decades!”

The Corsair doubted that would last long.

Somewhere from the front of the bar, a jovial yet foreign voice said, "Drinks all around. It's on me tonight, boys!"

“What an excellent excuse to have another,” the Corsair responded to the Doctor. “Bartender, two Ventenari cocktails if you will.”

The Corsair gave one of his award winning smiles, brushing back his soft, wavy hair in a practiced gesture. He always got the best service.

And the best criminal record.

“No thank you. I have had enough for the night. My left ear has already gone numb. Besides, when I wake up tomorrow morning with no recollection of what we were up to, I’d rather not have a hangover to add to it.” The Doctor fixed his patchwork coat and turned back to the bartender.

“If you would please, change my order to a cup of bittercorn tea,” the Doctor said. He was content with his decision, if a bit tipsy.

Surprised at his friend’s unwillingness to roister with him, the Corsair fixed a mock wounded look on the Doctor. He then slid a wink at the attractive bartender and knocked back the cocktail.

When he had finished, the Corsair said, “A free drink from a stranger and you choose tea? Look what regeneration has done to you. You’ve gone from a carefree clown to a dull rainbow.”

“Nonsense,” the Doctor remarked, unwilling to give in to the banter. “I’m just more sensible. Besides, I have Mel to get back to in the TARDIS.”

“Indeed. You and your human compatriots. You truly have gone soft.”

“Ha! I’ve never gone soft in all my regenerations. Don’t let my wardrobe’s dazzling sense of style fool you. Beneath these golden locks is a mind as sharp and as cunning as ever!”

“Much like your companion, Mel?”

“Well, she is only human after all. Poor thing needed a rest after her psychic battle with the Spacemaster General. Humans just aren’t made of the same stuff you and I are.”

An over-exaggerated wave of his hand almost sent the Doctor tumbling off his chair.  
The Corsair quirked an eyebrow.

“Truer words, Doctor.”

******

At approximately the same moment that two Time Lords were sharing potent drinks at the back of the room, a woman walked through the ornate wooden doors of the All-Port Spiritorium and Bar. She carried herself cautiously, but with purpose beneath her midnight-blue satin cloak.

Multifaceted eyes scanned the entire room in an instant. Certain that the bar was free from law officers or other threats, the woman lowered her hood. A simple band held her antennae down against the short bristly chaeta that covered her head and back.

Chixanthae retracted her pincers and smiled.

"Drinks all around. It's on me tonight, boys!" she said.

The comment was met with great cheering from the small clusters of various species throughout the room.

“Well, aren’t you a generous lady.” One of the bar’s rather intoxicated patrons sidled up to the woman with more than gratitude behind his eyes. “Not that I’m complanin’, but what makes you so keen to burn through some credits?” 

She made a clicking noise and said, “I had a very good day.”

“Well I would love to hear all about it over one of those free drinks, my ruby-plated beauty.”

The man was too drunk to notice the rancid smile she gave him.

Finally, she replied, “Yes. Why should I not? The job is no fun if one cannot brag about it.”

******

The Doctor and the Corsair were far too interested in their complimentary beverage and growing aftereffects of the Mementonics to notice the rousing tale of seduction, cunning, and wit being shared behind them. That was, at least, until they overheard the end.

“…and that’s why I’m the best bloody thief in the galactic sector!”

Her comment caused a boisterous cheer around her as the others at the bar scrambled to give her praise, with the slight chance she would continue her philanthropy.

“What did she say?” The Corsair asked his friend.

“What? Oh no you don’t! You are in no condition to show off to the locals.” The Doctor said to his pugnacious companion. He was well aware of the trouble even a levelheaded Corsair could get into. The two cocktails had already begun to affect the Time Lord. He was as level headed as someone on a rollercoaster. That was, decidedly not.

The Doctor sipped his tea before continuing, “Really? You intend to get into another fight just to prove you’re better, or should I say worse, than that Insectoid over there?”

“I most certainly do,” The Corsair said.

He stood up from the bar stool, slicked back a stray tawny curl, and pulled his favorite coat a little tighter around his toned body.

The Corsair wore a coat similar to that of the Doctor, but in rich Tangorian leather that could stop any standard metal projectile. Unfortunately, species on this side of the galaxy rarely used such primitive weapons.

“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear that you are the ‘best thief in this galactic sector’. I find that highly doubtful. I’d be careful what claims you boast about yourself. Who, may I ask, are you?”

Chixanthe snapped her pincers and assessed him.

“A Time Lord? Are you here to arrest me or waste my time? I have committed no temporal crimes, so it must be the latter.”

By now, the Doctor had downed his poorly brewed tea and made haste to the heating shows of dominance.

In attempt to relieve the pressure, he said, “Now, now. We have no desire to cause trouble over a planetary legal affair. I’m sure whatever your crime, it was most impressive. It would seem my friend has had one drink too many and is experiencing difficulty holding his tongue.” The Doctor turned to the Corsair, “Shall I hold it for you?”

The haughty Time Lord ignored the other and continued arguing his point.

“I am not here for your capture, but to challenge you. I intend to prove that I am the better thief. After all, I am the Corsair.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” one patron said. He had just finished a very large, free drink.

“Exactly!”

“I’m sorry, but empty boasts do not prove anything,” Chixanthe said. “Now please leave my sight before I throw you out of this establishment myself.”

“Very well then. We shall have to prove it to you.”

The Corsair could not feel his pinkies. He also had come under the strange delusion that he was ten feet tall. Six out of six Doctors would say the two were related.

Right now, however, the Doctor was mulling over what the Corsair meant by ‘we’.

“What?”

“What?”

The insectoid laughed; her pincers vibrated and produced an unsettling purr.

“No,” she said.

“What do you mean, ‘we’? I shall not be helping you in this childish game.”

At that, the Doctor turned on his heels and marched back to his bar stool.

“Sure you will, Doctor. Our honor is on the line. This fine specimen doesn’t believe we have what it takes.”

“Then I can tell you with much certainty, that I do not have what it takes.”

The Doctor’s words appeared final when he turned his back on the group. The Corsair’s smile faltered, but he regained his composure, facing Chixanthe and her horde of drunken listeners.

Through an award winning row of teeth, he said, “I would like to strike a wager with you. Whatever crime you committed, we too can perform it solely within the confines of this evening.”

Chixanthe paused. She assessed every facet of this scenario, her eyes darting to everyone in the bar. To refuse the wager implied she thought they might disprove her.

“You would like to break into the Palace of Her Lady of the Petrubian Lake and abscond with a royal Spirion seed pod, as I have just done?”

“A Spirion seed!? That is what you stole?”

Eyes wide, the Doctor drifted back over to his colleague.

Next to him, the drunken patron gave a confused grunt.

“What’s so imp’rtant about a seed pod anyway?”

“One seed pod of Spirion origin can cultivate a single planet. It is a Petrubian creation, a scientific and astrobiologic masterpiece ideal for interplanetary reign!”

“Yes, it is,” Chixanthe smirked. “It is also worth a very large sum of money.”

“And that is exactly what we intend to steal!” the Corsair added finally.

“In one evening, with no plan?”

“Indeed. A challenge for a true thief.”

“Impossible,” Chixanthe said. “Even I had to court Her Lady the Queen for a month to gain entrance to the royal chambers. That is where the seeds are kept, after all.”

“I could manage it. No queen has said no to me before.” The Corsair smiled.

“Could you? I do not believe so. Nor do I believe you or your partner are the Queen’s…type. She would have no carnal interests in fleshy humanoids. Besides, you are already doomed to failure. You could not sneak into anywhere with a coat such as that.”

The Corsair stifled a giggle.

Next to him, the Doctor flushed pink. Both were likely the alcohol’s doing.

“What? How could you…well, I’ve never heard someone insult another man’s coat!”

“That is surprising. You Time Lords are rarely subtle.”

 

“I am far more skilled than you know!” the Doctor fumed. “We will steal a royal seed pod. We will bring it back here and show you what’s what.”

“And when we do succeed…” the Corsair interjected.

“If you succeed, I will personally turn myself in for my crimes.”

“You will also return both seed pods, the one you stole and the one we…retrieved.”

“We will even do it without sleeping with anybody.” The Doctor was proud of his refined methods.

“If we want to,” the Corsair said with an arched smile.

“Then we have a deal.”

The two parties shook hands and hand-like appendages. A wager was set, with everyone confident they would win.

“Come along, Doctor. Let’s go steal something.”

The Time Lords paid the bartender and walked out. By now, the Mementonic had worked its way down to their knees, which wobbled at each step. Nevertheless, they marched down the corridor with determination.

“What say we take my TARDIS? It is closer, after all.”

“So it is,” the Doctor replied. They had turned the corner to the sight of a gargantuan, terrestrial pirate ship. It floated twenty feet in the air, docked amongst other typical trans-galactic spaceships in the hangar.

“Never one for subtlety, were you Corsair?”

“Impressive, no?” The Corsair seemed not to hear that last comment.

Instead, he began to climb the rope ladder dangling down the hull. He motioned for the Doctor to follow.

When the Doctor finally reached the main deck of the ship, he found the Corsair had gone into what would ordinarily be the captain’s quarters. Inside, he found the control room of a TT Type 47 TARDIS.

Beige and chrome walls were alight with twinkling bulbs. Their blue-orange glow reflected off the central glass column as it hummed, or rather purred, at the arrival of its Time Lord.

The Corsair stroked the curved console. He flicked a switch surrounded by dozens of others and the doors closed with an airtight hiss. The Corsair walked around to the coordinates panel and tapped at the screen. Several times he fumbled, the feeling in his index, ring, and pinkie fingers had diminished greatly in the walk from the bar.

An onboard AI came up over the comm system, prompting the Corsair if he would like to describe the desired destination.

“Yes, Velma. Please take us to the Palace of Her Lady of the Petrubian Lake. As close as you can get us.”

“You got it!” a spunky female voice played through the speakers.

When the destination was finally entered, he said, “‘Into the Universe and beyond, through every Space, past every Time’. Isn’t that what the Academy used to say?”

“Something along those lines. I never paid much attention to their repetitious mumblings and mottos,” the Doctor admitted.

“Right, right! You gave them the what-for and set off on your own. Smart lad, if you ask me.”

“Save your flattery until we’ve finished our job, Corsair.”

“Then let us go steal something from royalty!”

The Corsair pulled down on a smooth crystal lever and the console emitted a deep hum. Prepared for a lurch that never came, the Doctor pretended to be fascinated by the ornately carved blue-metal pillar he had been clinging to.

“I’d recommend you turn the Chameleon Circuit back on before we land. Nautical Earth ships are not a common site on Petrubia.”

“Inconspicuity and all that? A wise thought. That is why I wanted you along, Doctor. The Genin Mementonic has already started in on this old noggin.”  
He flipped a switch.

After a few seconds, the ship jolted to a stop, though it was no longer in the shape of a ship. The hum filling the control room ended. Each of the chrome finial disks around the glass console faded to stillness. It let out a high-pitched whistle like that of a train.

They had arrived.

“What wush, I mean ‘was’, all that?

The Time Lord still clung to the iridescent pillar, struggling to regain control of his tongue.

“I changed the sound settings. Can’t yours do that?”

“Some of ush have to make do with older models.”

Again the Corsair ignored the remark with a jovial smile. He flicked another switch on the sparkling panel crammed with switches and the hull doors reopened to a sky of emerald green from the setting sun.

“Here we are, the Royal Gardens of the Palace of this and that and other such nonsense.”

“Oh, goodie. Time to go and not get killed by guards.”

Despite his attitude, the Doctor was giddy with adrenaline.

“After you.”

The Corsair turned a few more dials on the console for good measure then strode out into the lush paradise of amber and ruby foliage. Their craft lay only a leisurely walk from the bubbled stone façade of the palace. The building’s exterior was not unlike that of a human castle from the middle ages. Some things were just universal. The TARDIS on the other hand looked quite different. Gone were the sails and the mizzenmast. So to were the deck and hull. It now appeared, upon the Doctor’s inspection leaving the craft, as a plump column of pink marble, which matched the surrounding statues and canopies as though placed there by the architect himself.

A pair of frog-like creatures fluttered onto a bush of conical spikes. Their suction cup appendages held frail bodies to the honey-coloured plant, eyeing the Corsair on his path towards the castle.

With a tap of the column-that-was-not, the TARDIS doors closed. It now blended into the luxurious obscurity of Petrubia.

The Doctor lumbered to keep up with an eager Corsair, despite his numbing feet.

“I must say, your landing was wonderfully executed. But tell me, how did you get past the coupled magnetron security field? Surely they wouldn’t allow for unauthorized materialization on royal grounds.”

“Did you like that trick? It was a cyclic phase-inducer circuit. A gift from the Time Lords for something I ‘didn’t do’.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“The Time Lords have their uses, Doctor. You may not wish to run from them forever.”

“We will see. Stop!” The Doctor put his hand out, both to caution his companion and to stabilize himself on a nearby statue. He was starting to have trouble concentrating.

When he gained his balance, the Doctor said, “Look over there. Two guards on patrol by a back entrance. That must be our way in.”

“Agreed. And I do believe they have a key card to access the door. I’ll be the muscle if you would like to pose a distraction.”

“Very well. My coat ought to be good for something,” he said with repugnance at the thought of Chixanthe’s earlier comment. “Wait here.”

The Doctor set off towards the palace door. He puffed up his chest and tried not to look too tipsy.

“Hello there, my good fellows! Might you be able to assist me?” he called to the guards. Their smooth, noseless faces and protruding abdomens were the only features to distinguish them from humans. At present, those waxy faces contained a mix of confusion and alarm at the rainbow of a person before them.

“Halt. Identify yourself,” one guard grumbled with rich baritone. They marched closer to the Doctor and the castle, yet away from the shrubbery at the garden’s entrance.

“Of course, of course. You see, I am…well, I am the royal interloper. Newly hired! Just this morning, in fact.”

“We have not been informed of any such position. You will have to come with us.”

The guard took a step closer, removing a pair of arm restraints.

“Excellent. I would love to. But before I do, would you mind looking at the gentleman behind you?”

Both guards glanced over their armor plated shoulders at the sight of a devilishly charming man with an even more charming hooked nose. How they would like to have a nose like that, each guard would have thought.

Sadly, they did not get a chance to think. The Corsair, who had snuck up on the pair during the distraction, reached out with sturdy yet well manicured hands and pulled their heads in toward each other.

There was a dull thud and the guards sank to unconsciousness before they reached the ground.

“Lovely work, Doctor. Grab the key card and I’ll go hide their bodies in the gardens.”

“I fear you say that with far too much ease for my liking.”

Nevertheless, the Doctor fished out the silicon disk and went to open a gate into the fortress palace of Petrubia.

The two aliens slipped inside unnoticed.

 

The palace interior was decorated in much the way you would expect it to be. Delicate vases and elaborate floral arrangements dotted the hallways amidst thick, dusty tapestries that told of rich and often violent histories. Lush auburn carpet lined with silver plating stretched for ages in either direction. Traditional lighting however, was replaced with warm yet illuminating fluorescent crystals, which clung every few meters to the rocky, vaulted ceiling.

Beside their entryway, a dour insectoid glared at the Doctor and Corsair through an entirely too real painting. Its ghoulish blue exoskeleton shined in the orange lighting of the hallway.

How impressive, the Doctor thought until he peered a little closer and realized it wasn’t a painting at all but a shadow box, housing the decapitated and mounted head of Chief Raxorstsin, as the plaque below read. The Doctor grimaced.

“Let’s keep moving, shall we? I’d hate to see what they do to the people they don’t like!”

They started down the path before them at a quickened pace despite the great weight of their deadened feet.

“Right. Have you any idea where the princess’ quarters might be? I’d suggest searching the entire palace, except the mementonic seems to have other plans.”

As if on cue, the Corsair stumbled in the most graceful possible way into one of the full-length tapestries. He fell straight through, as the woven history flapped back over him.

The Doctor let out a guffaw, then a giggle. He was soon overcome with laughter at his companion’s actions.

With much effort, the Corsair attempted to right himself, but it was as though his hands and feet refused to cooperate. They felt warm and euphoric against the lush reddish carpeting that continued through the secret passage.

“I do believe you’ve found a new lead, old friend,” the Doctor said breathlessly.

“As I always do! Now, would you mind lending me a functioning hand here?”

“I guess those good looks can’t do everything.”

“They do enough. Thank you Doctor. I have a good feeling about this.”

“Well I seem to have lost feeling in both my hands and the left side of my face, so I’ll trust yours.”

Leaning against each other, they climbed the steep ascent of the dim, hidden corridor until it ended. The black void that halted their path was marred only by the orange glow surrounding it.

“Aha! Another secret wall.” With a gentle shove, the hinged painting glided open to reveal another hallway. It was indistinguishable from the last except for the intricately carved emerald door. The hallway seemed to widen to the elaborate portal, or was it the presence of the door that made the rest of the corridor seem to fade away?

“Now that looks like a door worth opening!”

“It certainly seems important. Can we be so lucky?”

“Ha! I bring luck with me wherever I go. First the Spacemaster General, then the free drink at the bar, a thrilling dare, and now precisely the room we were looking for.”

“Oh, Corsair. I dread the day your luck runs out.”

“Are you with me then?”

“Naturally,” the Doctor hiccoughed. “You’re the one keeping me upright.”

“Good, then we’ll grab that seed pod and be gone from this place before a Dalek can shout ‘Exterminate’.”

The Corsair gripped the curved handle, twisted, and pushed the heavy door aside with ease. It slid into the wall with a fluid air despite its great age. The accomplices stepped over the threshold to the room within and gazed at their prize.

This was indeed the private chamber of Her Lady of the Petrubian Lake. On top of the beautifully intricate pedestal of pure crystal were indeed four of the five spirion seed pods of planetary cultivating fame. Beside them in the cathedral-like chamber of opalescent hues were indeed a dozen of Her Lady’s personal guards and investigators inspecting the site of the recent theft. And indeed, most of all, did the Corsair and Doctor finally see the Lady herself.

Her waxen features widened in surprise, but no words passed her ridged lips. One of the guards lowered herself back onto four legs, the silky green robes that covered her pale abdomen fluttered back into place.

Silence.

The two interlopers looked around at the mess they found themselves in.

“Bollocks,” one said; “Are we late for the party?” said the other.

“That must be them. Thieves! Arrest them both!” Her Lady pointed a clawed finger at the Doctor who tried to run and the Corsair who tried to throw something.

The Doctor found his hands and even fingers had lost their deftness, scrabbling uselessly at the door which closed behind them.

The Corsair fared little better. The first thing his hands could reach was a tasseled pillow resting beside a durational spectrometer and other crime scene paraphernalia upon a nearby settee.

Flying across the chasmic expanse of the room, golden tassels reflecting off the warm crystal chandelier, the decorative pillow plummeted into an officer’s shiny face, where it bounced harmlessly to the floor.

“Well…” the Corsair hiccoughed.

The guards and Petrubian officers converged on the entryway to capture the criminals, who were already slumping to the floor in a stupor.

Before his eyes gave in to the immensely satisfying sensation of inebriation, the Doctor looked up into a clean glass ceiling letting in the beams of distant starlight. He thought he could spot Kasterborous, but it blurred into the others and was gone.

*****

Light streamed in from somewhere high above. It pierced his weary eyelids like acid rain no matter how tightly he squeezed them shut. The ground below his body was smooth and even, but cold like stone.

The Doctor sat up to the drumming of his hearts at each temple. He was in a detention cell somewhere in the Gashaxi system.

Another person stirred beside him, a rumpled Tangorian coat splayed over the groggy figure.

“Is there any breakfast?” the Corsair managed to say.

“Figures it would be you, Corsair.”

The Time Lord finally sat up and took in his surroundings. “Doctor! So good to see you again. It’s been simply ages. I see you’ve regenerated, though I can’t say I prefer the new face. What have you been up to…say, are we in a prison?”

“Finally noticed, have you? I honestly cannot remember a thing since that run-in with that pompous Spacemaster General.”

“Yes, I remember that too. That companion of yours was brilliant. Millie was her name, right?’

“It’s Mel.” The Doctor paused as a thought struck him. “Oh dear. Where has she gotten off to? What are we even doing here?!”

“I’ve no idea. But whatever it was, I hope we deserved it.”

“Well I hope Mel has some traces of psychic residue left in her,” the Doctor said, scrunching his face in concentration. “The sooner I get out of this cell and away from you, the better.”

“Such a dramatist, you are.”

The Corsair kicked his feet up onto the only bench in the cramped room. He laced his arms behind his head in place of a pillow and closed a pair of beautiful, blue eyes.

“Besides, Doctor, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

A lazy smile spread across his face. The Corsair drifted off into a pleasant dream.


End file.
